


silver rivers.

by beeluvd



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feels, IM AN EMOTIONAL MASOCHIST, Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko Swears, Post-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Sad with a Happy Ending, Super Dangan Ronpa 2 Spoilers, at least i didnt kill her off in this one, but like hurt in a good way, dude this hurt so bad to write, i love to suffer, like really bad, peko needs a hug, this hurt to write LOL, what is wrong with me honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:53:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeluvd/pseuds/beeluvd
Summary: Her pale grey hair lay frizzy and tangled, long and untouched due to months of immobile sleep. It reached down to her waist, farther than she had ever had before. It was heavy, uncomfortable. Messy and matted, some loose strands stuck up at odd angles like she had just been shocked. It was as though a silver forest had sprouted on top of her head, a thicket of snow covered trees gone wild.When she went to run her fingers through it, her hand got caught in all the knots that had formed throughout the months due to lack of care. She hit tangle after tangle but feared ripping any strands out, afraid of tearing out her scalp by accident. It was foreign, new. She had never remembered needing this much hair before, never mind had it.Peko swallowed and gripped the scissors in her right hand.—Peko wakes up.Months later, she still doesn't feel real.—(In which Peko cuts her hair in a fit of emotional distress and Fuyuhiko finds her.)
Relationships: Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko/Pekoyama Peko
Comments: 13
Kudos: 56





	1. pathetic.

**Author's Note:**

> Started this as a short oneshot and HERE WE ARE LMFAOOOO anyway I love putting myself through emotional distress! Sometimes you love a character so much that you expand on their trauma. Sometimes thats just what you do. 
> 
> Also, scissors are mentioned, but no SH is done!! Just some hair cutting!

It had been a bit over four months since she’d woken up. 

Four? Five? Six? Peko couldn’t remember. Days passed by in a blur, the world around her never truly felt real.

Fuyuhiko had spent every moment allowed with her. He’d rushed to her side when she’d opened her eyes, delirious. Possibly even more overwhelmed than she was. She’d opened her eyes to a bright light, and had accepted the fact that she was dead, until a pair of familiar arms wrapped around her.

He had cried. She had stared at him wide eyed, never truly believing he was real.

Most days she’d sit in her bed, staring out the window, while he sat in the chair across the room from her. The two didn’t say much (Peko had said almost nothing since waking up), but rather just sat, absorbing each other’s presence.

Often, Peko found herself reading. She read anything the nurses had to give her, really. There was never quite a huge selection to choose from, so she took whatever she could get. Within three weeks she’d read all of what the island and the Future Foundation had to offer, and resorted to rereading some of the ones that weren’t mind numbingly boring.

She’d sit in bed and read, or she’d sit up and stare out the window at the crashing sea, her once fiery red eyes now dull and burnt out. Fuyuhiko had held her hand, once, and that was maybe the only time she’d felt real. He told her, “I want you to get better,” a sentiment that she understood was kind and encouraging.

But truthfully, Peko wasn’t sure what “better” meant.

What did he want from her?

Now, Peko lay in her bed, her room empty. It was nighttime, so she had no company with her, no second presence to lean on. The room was dark, save for the pale moonlight streaming in through her window. Peko sat up a little, staring at the small patch of silver light on her white hospital sheets. Gingerly, she reached out, extending her hand towards the thin beam of light that rested on her blanket, hoping to feel some sort of sensation—something, anything.

Her hand went right through the moonbeams, pallid and dreamlike.

_‘It isn’t real,’_ she thought to herself dully. A small square of moonlight rested on her sheets where the moonlight came to a stop. She placed her hand in the middle of it, feeling nothing. 

Her hand was cold, illuminated by the moonlight. It was pale and thin to the point where you could see her knuckles poking out of her skin. She balled her hand into a fist, counting the knuckles that protruded out at certain points. It was weak and atrophied from her time in the pod—all of her was. Her grip was frail and flimsy, and even now she still had trouble getting out of bed by herself.

Peko felt weak.

The girl took a deep breath. _‘You’re not,’_ She held her breath. ‘ _Supposed to be weak.’_ Still she kept the air in her lungs, feeling how prominent her ribs were against her skin. ‘ _You’re not supposed to be weak,’_ she repeated to herself as she exhaled. Her breath was shaky and her hands were still clenched into unsteady fists, one of them now holding onto the hospital sheets.

‘ _You’re not supposed to be weak!’_ Peko screamed internally at herself as she used her other fist to punch the wall next to her bed. Her muscles still being what they were, she hit the wall feebly, barely making a sound.

‘ _You’re so…’_ A voice that didn’t belong to her creeped back into her head. One that grew up with her, one that was hauntingly familiar. It sounded like the voice that raised her: cold and calculated and mean. It sounded like the one that taught her exactly what it meant to be a tool.

‘ _Pathetic._ ’

The word sunk into her bones, found its way into her bloodstream, made itself known and present in every single fiber of her being. Peko fell back onto her bed, her head hitting the pillow with a soft thud. She stared at the ceiling (she found she was doing that a lot nowadays) and brought the thin hospital sheets up to her chin, her hand still stinging slightly from when it hit the wall. 

‘ _You’re so pathetic,_ ’ she repeated back to herself. The words, though harsh, were sadly well known to her. She’d heard them so many times in her life from the head of the clan, who made it known to her that she was never supposed to feel anything, ever. They were words that were carved into the back of her brain by Fuyuhiko’s father, who took every opportunity he could to remind her that she was never meant to be human.

‘ _You’re so pathetic,_ she repeated back to herself, the words joyless but familiar. She clung to this familiarity, these harsh words grounding her to reality. They were malicious and degrading, and Peko found solace in that. After all, it was what she was used to her entire life.

‘ _You’re so pathetic,_ ’ she repeated back to herself, reminding herself why she was even alive in the first place. She remembered why she was put on this planet, why she was taken in as a little girl, why she gave so much but took so little.

‘ _You’re SO pathetic,’_ Peko reminded herself as she closed her eyes, ready to succumb to her tired body. She felt a twinge of sharpness creep up against her back.

The voice that did not belong to her laughed.

‘ _You’re right._ ’ It sneered as she drifted off to sleep, falling back into the familiarity of maltreatment.

She did not notice a certain someone cracking the door open just a tiny bit, checking to make sure that she’d fallen asleep.


	2. alone.

The next morning was all the same. The nurses brought her a tasteless breakfast that felt like glue against the roof of her mouth. She lay sitting up in her bed, eyes locked on the sea that waved lazily outside her window. Fuyuhiko sat in his usual chair, reading a book Peko had read three times over. Neither of them said anything, but she was grateful for his presence. She felt that he was taking unnecessary time out of his day to spend with her and believed he could be doing something else much more useful or fulfilling, but he insisted that he be there. She still did not understand why, but if he wanted to do it, who was she to stop him.

After what felt like hours (but was really only about 20 minutes), Peko closed her eyes, resting her vision from the sunlight outside. She breathed in the scent of seawater from the open window and the antiseptic aroma that wafted around in the hospital, feeling the slight breeze from outside make its way into the room and rustle the hair that hung around her face. 

Her hair was much longer now, a great deal longer than the simulation. She had vague memories of having it down during her time as the Ultimate Despair, indistinctly remembering the little side ponytail that she’d put a small part of it in. The feeling of intense heat from the burning buildings around them replayed in her mind: she couldn’t quite recall the exact situation, just that it was hot and stuffy and her hair was everywhere. It stuck to her face, clung to her neck. It was long and uncomfortable, so she couldn’t quite remember why she’d left it down like that.

But nonetheless, here she was now in the present day, her silver hair reaching to the middle of her thighs. She still had not found the strength or motivation to care about it, much less cut it. The nurses and even Fuyuhiko had offered to brush it or braid it, but she refused. So now it lay tangled and unkempt, her once shining silver locks now as dull as her eyes. She took a piece that settled near her hand and rolled it in between her fingers, feeling the rough split ends.

“You okay?”

Fuyuhiko’s voice cut through the silence and Peko’s eyes shot open, her field of vision suddenly flooding with light. “Hmm. Yes,” she responded in a low voice, never quite sure how to answer that question. She kept her eyes trained towards the window. Peko had not noticed it, but she had not made eye contact with him since waking him up and seeing him at the pod. She had not noticed it, but he did.

Right now, she watched out of the corner of her eye as he looked directly at her and raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” he asked, softly. 

Not angry. Not like his father.

Peko blinked, focusing on the leaf of a palm tree that swayed idly in the breeze. She rolled her hair in between her fingers.

‘ _What does he want to hear?_ ’

“Yes,” she responded as confidently as she could muster.

Fuyuhiko sighed slightly and closed his book. “You know, Peko,” she flinched slightly as he said her name, still not used to being addressed as equals. (He noticed.)

“You don't,” he paused. 

“You don’t _have_ to be okay.”

‘ _If I’m not okay, then what am I?_ ’

She kept her eyes focused out of the window.

“Okay,” she said, without thinking.

Fuyuhiko fiddled with the pages of his book. “No I mean, what I mean is,” He let out a huff, searching for words. “What I mean is you don’t always have to be, you know, strong. If you ever wanna, you know,” He paused again, looking down. “Talk...about anything. Or whatever, I’m just...letting you know that I’m here.”

Silence filled the room again.

“Okay,” Peko responded once again without consideration of his words, her eyes still locked on the palm tree outside.

“Okay,” he said, unsure.

The two sat there until nighttime, neither of them sure what to say. 

(Perhaps either of them were too afraid to say anything.)

He noticed that her eyes were dull.

—

That night, Peko Pekoyama woke up screaming. 

(Not for herself. Never for herself.)

She remembered hearing him scream and then throwing her sword off to the side, wondering how the hell he’d gotten here in the first place. She remembered using her body as a shield, trying to fulfill the one thing she was ever supposed to do.

She recalled the feeling of swords in her back, slicing through her like butter, the way they’d lodged in between her ribs and wedged themselves in between the bones in her kneecaps, how the last thing she’d felt was the sharpness digging into the back of her neck and splitting her skeleton apart with a loud crack. But they were all nothing compared to watching the one person she was meant to protect bleed out in front of her.

Peko curled up in a ball, knees hugged tight to her chest, and tried in vain to fall back asleep. 

She reminds herself she has always been alone. 


	3. changing.

The next day, Fuyuhiko gently suggested that they take a walk down to the beach. Peko had no reason to deny, so she nodded and agreed. 

Her body was still weak from the simulation, so often she’d either need assistance from another person or used a walker, cane, or a wheelchair on her particularly bad days. The muscle pains would come and go. But the phantom pains…

The phantom pains were horrible. Peko had endured beatings and torture and taken bullets and stabbings and had the scars to prove it, but those were hardly anything compared to the feeling of hundreds of swords in her back that were never really there in the first place.

But she would never tell anybody that. 

Today was one of her bad days. She’d almost fallen when she’d gotten out of bed, and Fuyuhiko had rushed forward to catch her. His arms were barely an inch away from her when she stopped him.

“Don’t,” she said sharply, her teeth clenched, her left hand clutching the railing of her bed so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

His face wore a clear expression of alarm. “What?” He cried, clearly worried.

She hated that. She hated when he worried about her.

“I’m fine,” she stated coolly, trying to steady her fragile frame up by herself.

“Peko you—what the fuck you almost just fell!? Obviously you’re not okay! Jesus, why won’t you just let me—” He stopped, catching the expression on her face.

Her eyes burned.

With what? He wasn’t quite sure. Anger? Rage? It was indistinguishable, but eerily familiar. It was something he’d seen in her his whole life, something he was never quite able to grasp or understand. It was frightening yet demanding, always something that stopped him in his tracks, something that had drawn him to her since the day he first saw it.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, her eyes still fixed on the ground.

Still, they burned.

“Okay,” he said, still skeptical but not willing to argue. 

Slowly, she straightened herself up as he watched helplessly.

“I told you I was fine,” she stated in an even voice. She hoped he didn’t notice her hand still clutching the railing.

“I...believe you,” he responded, still frozen in place.

“But I think we should get the wheelchair today, if that’s okay. I don’t want you to...tire yourself out,” he said slowly, watching her face.

“Okay,” she responded flatly, not refusing him.

So now here they were on the edge of the sand, a threshold she was not quite sure she wanted to cross. 

Fuyuhiko stood behind her; he’d pushed her wheelchair to this point with no defiance, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. Peko sat still with her eyes still trained on the ground, her long silver hair still messy and falling around her, trailing down her shoulders and into her lap. She took the end of a piece in between her fingertips and twirled it around mindlessly, noticing but not caring about her bad case of split ends. 

“So um...did you wanna go down to the water? Or…”

Fuyuhiko’s voice trailed off into the rustling of the palm leaves. Peko stopped fiddling with her hair and looked up, her eyes meeting the sea.

“I’m not sure how I would get there.”

Fuyuhiko frowned. “Well I, um,” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. 

“I could help you? You know, walk there.”

Peko blinked, feeling the sea breeze rustle her hair. 

“I don’t…”

She wasn’t entirely sure how to finish that sentence. ‘ _What don’t you want?_ ’ she asked herself. The thought of him supporting her and lifting her and aiding her...she felt her stomach curdle. ‘ _You’re so weak_ ,’ the voice that did not belong to her laughed. ‘ _You can’t even walk there by yourself!_ ’ She twirled her hair inbetween her hands again, feeling the roughness against her fingers. _‘He’s not supposed to be helping you. You’re the one that’s supposed to be helping him, and you can’t even do that!_ ’ a familiar, malicious voice yelled at her inside her own head. 

The thought of him helping her up, putting his arm across her back to steady her, helping her as though they were of the same status, made her want to throw up. ‘ _He should never stoop so low as to help you,_ ’ the voice scoffed. _‘He’s not supposed to help you._ ’ it reminded her.

Peko took a deep breath in, trying to calm herself. Still, shame and humiliation swirled around in her head. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe she misheard him. Maybe—

“Peko?”

A familiar voice cut through her thoughts. 

“Peko we don’t—you don’t...have to.”

Fuyuhiko gave her a choice, knowing she’d never gotten many of those in her lifetime.

Peko rolled her hair inbetween he fingers, matting it even more.

“Then...let's not.”

The guilt still lingered in her bones. She felt the tips of metal blades in her back.

“Okay. We can just stay here then.”

She watched, out of the corner of her eye, as he made his way to her right, and then sat down cross legged next to her wheelchair.

Quickly, she snuck a look at him while his gaze was focused on the sea.

His hair had grown out a tad, covering up the shaved sides in his head. He didn’t wear an eyepatch either, instead letting the scar across his eye lay out in the open. He had told her that it wasn’t her fault, that she didn’t do this to him, but a part of her knew that was a lie. Though her memories as an Ultimate Despair were cloudy at best, she still had a feeling that she played a part in taking that eye out of him.

And yet, despite missing an eye, despite coming out of a simulation after watching all of his friends die, Fuyuhiko’s long, fixed stare at the sea was one of peace and contentment. It was one that was not heavily weighted (though there was still a tinge of heaviness to it). She wondered what he had done during the time she was still comatose. (Apparently he’d spend most of his time by her pod. She was deeply embarrassed to hear this.) The others told her that he spent most of his time writing, presumably to and about her. This troubled Peko; she wasn’t entirely sure why he would spend his time writing about her when he had other duties on the island to attend to. 

Still, he looked...almost at peace. His gaze was still slightly troubled, but it almost looked like he was okay with that. Peko realized that this was a very different person from the one she grew up with. The Fuyuhiko she knew bubbled with anger; he lashed out at this around him, occasionally at her (but had always apologized afterwards). She recalled a period in their lives where she felt like he hated her; he’d always pushed her away, always scoffed at her when she’d call him by his title. She supposed he hated her because he despised his family and, by association, her. However, Peko paid this no mind, as her only duty was to guard and protect him.

And she did. Until the very bitter end.

At the time, Peko had wondered if she died with him hating her.

  
  


If she did, it didn’t matter anyway. She was a tool. She was disposable. 

She always was.

  
  


“You okay?”

His voice interrupted her train of thought.

She realized he was staring directly into her eyes, and for the first time in months, she let him.

Peko stared at him, red eyes meeting gold. They held her there, and she let them, conflicting feelings swirling around in her chest. These eyes were kind and comforting, not the angry, tortured ones she had grown so familiar with over the years. 

For the first time in months, Fuyuhiko saw a flicker of life behind her crimson eyes fighting to stay alive.

“Yes,” she mustered, still stuck in his stare.

“If you say so,” he murmured softly, still savoring her gaze. 

A small look of something he couldn’t quite discern flashed over her stony features, and to his dismay, she looked back to the sea.

(She was always difficult to read. Perhaps that’s why he was always so determined to get to know her. There was always something new to learn about her, something new to love.)

The fire in her eyes flickered out as she watched the ocean waves bloom.

—

When night fell, Fuyuhiko escorted Peko back to her room in the hospital. “Are you gonna be okay?” He always asked her this every time they parted ways. Still Peko had no idea why. The answer was always going to be the same:

“Yes,” she responded dully. 

“Okay, I mean if you say so…”

He bit his lip as he opened the door to her room, pushing her chair gently. “Do you want—I mean, do you need any help—”

“I got it. It’s fine,” she interrupted as she pushed herself up from the chair and stumbled towards the bed.

It took every ounce of self control in him not to catch her and steady her as she practically threw herself onto her bed.

“I...okay,” he huffed. “Listen I know you can take care of yourself and all but...it’s okay to need help every once and awhile. Just sayin.” Fuyuhiko told her as he rubbed the back of his neck again. 

Peko wrapped the blankets around herself. “I’ll be fine young m—”

The weight of the world crashed onto both of their shoulders.

Her hands began to shake.

_“None of that ‘young master’ shit anymore, you hear me? I don’t want you to serve me or whatever. I’ve never wanted a tool. I only ever wanted you, you as Peko. You as you.”_

The words that he said to her when she emerged out of the pod, disoriented and manic, echoed in her head.

“I’m s—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, not angry like she’d expected. “I know it’s a...tough habit to break. But seriously,” he gave a sincere smile. “I really do like it when you use my name instead.”

She paused. “I’ll be fine...Fuyuhiko.”

The words trickled out of her mouth, foreign and uncomfortable. They felt like barbed wire, chewing on metal and tasting blood in her teeth. A part of her in the distance braced for the slap of a large man’s hand that often followed when she used this name.

But she found that the boy in front of her was smiling.

He gave a small sigh. “Thank you,” he said softly, the tenderness in his voice evident.

Peko nodded mutely as he opened the door to leave, still not sure what he was thanking her for.


	4. real.

Nights later, the moonlight streamed in through her window again.

She reached out to touch it. Still she felt nothing.

Peko sat up in her bed, unable to sleep tonight, again. Her back stung and her chest felt sharp and uncomfortable. Confusing feelings had been festering inside her for the last few days. When Fuyuhiko came to sit in her room, silently reading a book or writing in his journal, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She couldn’t bring herself to start a conversation or even carry one; thankfully he didn’t force her, only asking if she was okay or if she needed anything, to which she always replied with “yes,” and “no,” nothing more.

Something was holding her back, and she wasn’t sure what. ‘ _You’re so pathetic,_ ’ the voice that wasn’t hers rang in her ears once more. Peko squeezed her eyes shut. Hating herself came so easily. Degrading words were so familiar to her. Yet Fuyuhiko’s words were louder:

‘ _I want you to get better_.’

‘ _But what does better mean?_ ’ Her own thoughts made their way to the front of her mind. What did “better” mean to him? What did he want from her?

Frustration and anger and confusion grew in her chest. Peko ran her hands through her hair in irritation, unable to discern her feelings. Her hand hit a tangle in her long locks.

The ropes holding her together inside snapped when she felt a small knot of hair catch inbetween her fingers.

Peko began to breathe heavily, her chest rising and falling at a fast pace. All of a sudden, only one thought ran through her mind: she had to get out of here. She tossed the white hospital sheets off of her body and threw her legs over the side of the bed, her chest still heaving. Using all her strength, she pushed herself up and into a standing position. Her body felt hot, her blood curdling, and she stumbled towards the door and threw it open without a second thought, leaving her glasses on her nightstand.

She was met with the halls of the hospital, dark and empty. Though her legs threatened to give out under her, she knew she had to go somewhere, anywhere but here. She lunged forward, trying to steady herself but failing, falling forward and grabbing onto the rack full of assorted hospital equipment closest to her door.

Peko’s hands tightened against the steel edges of the rack, chest still heaving as the clanging of metal rang through the halls. She listened intently, waiting for any response from the empty halls, but nothing came. 

She was alone.

(She always was.)

Her breathing steadied as she straightened herself up, arms still shaking slightly. She examined the items on the rack and saw several hospital gowns, fresh towels, syringes, bottles of antiseptic alcohol, a rather large pair of scissors…

Her eyes locked onto the scissors, ideas running through her mind. Quickly, she grabbed the large pair and gripped it tightly in her right hand. Her eyes scanned the hallway, looking for the closest bathroom.

There.

She took another deep breath, preparing herself for the worst as she let go of the metal equipment rack. Her legs didn’t totally give out this time, but she still stumbled a bit towards the large door, clumsily trying to hold her own weight. She wasn’t even supposed to be walking on her own, but hell she didn’t care at this point. 

She couldn’t find the effort to care about anything anymore.

Her hand wrapped around the handle to the bathroom and shoved it open, her body falling forward as the door opened. She caught herself on the side of the door, refusing to fall again. Then she found her way to the bathroom sink, turned on the light, and let go of the door.

Again, she was alone.

Peko stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes had bags under them, her skin sallow and pale. She had never really taken a good look at herself, never really thought to. It would be a lie to say she didn’t totally care about her looks; Peko was, after all, still a human girl, and though she’d never admit it, she cared somewhat about her appearance. It was why she’d put her hair into braids every day, why she made sure even her simple outfits always matched, why maintained her soft, silver hair in the first place.

None of that showed in the pallid expression of the girl in the mirror.

Her pale grey hair lay frizzy and tangled, long and untouched due to months of immobile sleep. It reached down past her waist to the middle of her thighs, farther than she had ever had before. It was heavy, uncomfortable. Messy and matted, some loose strands stuck up at odd angles like she had just been shocked. It was as though a silver forest had sprouted on top of her head, a thicket of snow covered trees gone wild. 

When she went to run her fingers through it, her hand got caught in all the knots that had formed throughout the months due to lack of care. She hit tangle after tangle but feared ripping any strands out, afraid of tearing out her scalp by accident. It was foreign, new. She had never remembered needing this much hair before, never mind had it. 

Peko swallowed and gripped the scissors in her right hand.

Hair fell to the floor in chunks as she manically sliced away at her long locks, slashing at them violently. They gathered, a small silver forest on the linoleum, elegant yet pitiful. She watched them fall to the floor, creating a small heap at her feet that was shortly followed by drops of saltwater that pooled pathetically on top of the long strands that once flowed gracefully down her back a lifetime ago.

When had she started crying?

She dropped the scissors to the floor with a loud clang, metal against linoleum echoing in the small bathroom, her body following soon after.

Peko collapsed weakly on the bathroom floor, her legs giving out underneath her and her eyes staring at the pile of her hair on the floor and reached up to touch her cheeks, feeling the wetness she hadn’t realized was there. She gasped for air, taking in a big gulp as she felt hot tears run down her face.

When was the last time she had cried?

The girl buried her face in her hands, hair sticking to her neck and now to her hands and legs and arms, silver rivers strewn about on the bathroom floor.

She didn’t know what was happening, or why she was feeling like this, or _what_ she was feeling, or how to _fix_ it, she had to _fix_ it, she had to—

The bathroom door swung open with such force that it almost knocked Peko over.

“Peko oh my god where a—what are y—wha—”

Peko froze as Fuyuhiko’s eyes met hers, watery and crying and wet.

“Peko what—why are you—”

She couldn’t do anything but droop her head to her chest and cover her face with her hands.

“I’m sorry I—” she inhaled, suppressing a sob, hating herself for showing weakness.

Peko took a deep breath, trying to quell her tears. “I am fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Fine? Peko you’re on the floor and your hair is all over the place, sorry if I’m a bit outta line here but I don’t think you’re fine!” 

The end of his sentence was punctuated with the closing of the bathroom door.

She kept her face buried in her hands, unwilling to let him see her crying.

Fuyuhiko dropped himself down to the ground in front of her. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked softly, his voice filled with a certain gentleness he only ever reserved for her. She shook her head subtly, the uneven hair still on her head shaking with her movement. “Hey, sssh, look, it’s me. It’s just me.” He reached out, hesitating for a moment, and then took her hands in his, away from her face.

Her hands were cold. So, so cold.

She kept her eyes trained down on the ground, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Oh Peko, oh...you’re crying.” 

Even he couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice.

“I’m fine,” she said, still refusing to meet his gaze again.

“Peko, hey. Sssh, hey. Look at me.”

The tone of his voice was so soft that she couldn’t help but look up.

Tears ran down her cheeks, salty and wet. She looked at him, still suppressing sobs that she cursed for wanting to come out. Still she clenched her jaw and refused to show weakness.

‘ _You’re so pathetic._ ’

“You’re not pathetic,” he said softly, reaching a hand up to cup her face, wiping a tear with his thumb.

‘ _What?_ ’

“I know that’s what you’re thinking,” he murmured, his thumb still grazing her cheek. “I know that you know me pretty well, so I mean—heh, I think I know you pretty well too.” 

She still stayed silent but unclenched her jaw just a little bit.

“I know you think you have to be strong all the time and it’s not your fault you think like that, its—” he cut himself off, averting his eyes and cursing his family internally. “Listen you just—you don’t need to be strong all the time, Peko. You don’t have to be strong for _me_. I mean hell if you’re gonna be strong for someone, at least fuckin do it for yourself.” 

He let out a sigh, closing his eyes but not taking his hand off her face.

Peko swallowed, looking at this boy before her who she was supposed to be protecting, but was sitting here on the bathroom floor with her with her face in his hands. She reached her own hand out, taking his face in hers.

An expression of surprise washed over his face at her touch.

His face was warm. So, so warm.

She ran her thumb shakily over the scar where his eye used to be, feeling the ridges underneath her fingertips.

“Does it hurt?” she whispered.

“Sometimes,” he answered in a low murmur.

Peko withdrew her hand and brought it to her own chest, slightly gripping the thin hospital t-shirt she was wearing. Her whole body shook with the truth she’d been hiding for so long. She’d sworn she’d never tell anyone this, that she would never garner any sympathy from anyone. She had always been strong, but if he was telling her it was okay not to be, then maybe it was.

“It hurts.” Her voice was barely audible, cracking through the tears that threatened to come loose.

Fuyuhiko’s face fell in realization, fear spreading across his features.

“Oh, Peko…”

She buried her face in her hands. The feeling of swords stabbing into her back overtook her once again, breaking open her skin and burying themselves into her bones, and she fell forward to collapse on the floor.

He leaned forward to catch her, and for the first time, she let him.

Fuyuhiko pulled her upwards into a sort of awkward but comforting hug. “Hey, c’mere. It’s okay, I got you.” He held onto her tight, almost afraid to let her go, almost as though he would lose her all over again. She buried her face into his shoulder. “It hurts,” she cried softly as she felt the pain shoot through her back, into her chest, in between her ribs. He tightened his grip around her, feeling how much she was shaking. “It hurts,” she finally sobbed as she felt the final blow sever her neck right down the middle, thinking about how the last thing she saw was him bleeding out in front of her. 

Feelings of pain and confusion and regret found their way into Peko once more, unsure of how to express her emotions but just knowing one thing: that they hurt. 

She felt disgusting and ashamed and bothersome to let all of this out onto him, but with the way that he held her, she couldn’t find herself to let go.

“I didn’t know, I didn’t realize—” Fuyuhiko’s voice was filled with sadness. “I’m sorry I didn’t know, or realize sooner, maybe I could’ve done something I—” His voice trailed off as he listened to Peko weep lightly into his shoulder, unsure what to say. 

She raised her head, slightly embarrassed from the show that she just put on. “I’m sorry..." Still his name felt foreign in her mouth, but she forced it out. "...Fuyuhiko I ju—” She pulled away from him. “Hey, no no no, none of that apologizing shit anymore okay?” He grabbed her lightly by the shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for, okay?” 

Peko blinked the tears out of her eyes. “But I just—”

“No, okay? I already told you, I’m gonna be here for you no matter what, okay? And right now is one of those times.” He reached up to wipe another tear from her face. “Sometimes you just need to cry,” he said softly, his finger lingering for a moment on her cheek. 

“I don’t even know what I’m crying about,” she admitted, shame leaking into her voice.

“Sometimes you don’t need a reason. Hinata told me that. Weird guy, but good advice.” 

Peko scrunched up her nose, a little habit of hers that had survived even throughout these years. “I don’t get it,” she admitted.

“Look, Peko, if it hurts it fuckin hurts. Sometimes you just need to cry and get it out. Sometimes when shit hurts it just...well, it hurts a lot. And you just gotta let it out, okay?” He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “I mean, when you were, er, asleep, I cried, a lot.” 

Peko’s brows furrowed at this. The question left her mouth without her thinking about it.

“Why?”

Fuyuhiko looked shocked, as though she had just asked him the most obvious question in the world. “Why? Because I fuckin missed you, Peko, that's why! Honestly, sometimes I wonder with you,” he chuckled lightheartedly, shaking his head.

Still, she was confused. “Why would you m—”

“Jesus, you’re important to me, okay? Get that through your thick skull already!” he said playfully, though his face was tinged with pink. His words were filled with a certain tenderness she had rarely seen in her life, one that she cherished when it was rarely shown.

“And since you’re important to me, I want you to get better. Don’t get better for me or whatever, but I want you to get better for you. Not for anyone else.”

_‘I want you to get better for you.’_

His words lingered in her ears. She wasn’t entirely sure what they entailed, but they remained deep and real and present in her mind.

“But you don't have to do it alone. I'll be there for you...when you need it. Or want it, or whatever."

She felt her heart stop in disbelief.

Alone. She had always been alone, but here he was, telling her she didn't have to be. Mixed feelings settled at the bottom of her stomach, unsure how to react. Grateful? Ashamed? She still wasn't sure. But maybe she could figure it out in the future, when she wasn't sitting on the bathroom floor in a pile of her own hair.

"And if it’s any consolation, I,” he looked away, his cheeks turning a darker shade of pink. “I think you still look pretty with short hair.”

Peko swallowed, then found a small, wobbly smile spreading across her face. Before she knew it, a small laugh escaped her despite the gravity of the situation. At first, Fuyuhiko looked surprised, then a warmth that Peko so badly needed right now filled his face.

“Honestly, you...c’mere.” He lunged forward and wrapped her up into another hug, one tighter and more desperate than the one before. She felt herself hesitating, her arms hovering above his body, before hearing the words echo in her head.

_‘I want you to get better for you.'_

Peko still wasn’t sure what “getting better” meant, or even how to get there. But she knew that it was meant for her.

“What if I don’t know how to do that?” she whispered, her arms still slightly hovering above him.

“Then you’ll figure it out. We can figure it out. We have time,” he said softly.

_‘Time,_ ’ she thought pensively. Maybe she didn’t know what “getting better for her” meant, but maybe she could figure it out with time.

Fuyuhiko felt her arms wrap around him and felt a long, exhausted sigh leave her body. ‘ _I really do love you, you know,_ ’ he thought. But that was a sentence meant for another day. Maybe one in the near future, maybe one further along. Either way, they had time.

Peko settled her chin on his shoulder. “I don’t know what to do about all this hair though,” she gave a small, teary laugh. She pulled away from the hug, now panicking a tiny bit. “And it’s all uneven in the back, I look—” “Hey, I already told you, you still look great.” His face flushed a tiny bit as he said that. “But if you want, I can...er, even out the back for you?” 

Peko felt a tiny smile find its way onto her face again. “You can cut hair?” Fuyuhiko snorted. “Not well. Hajime just needed a major trim after we got out,” he gestured towards the air, not wanting to mention the simulation. “So I can do basic ass stuff, I guess.” 

Peko gave a small laugh, wiping the leftover tears from her face. “Okay,” she said. “Go ahead.”

Fuyuhiko picked the scissors up from the floor and wiped the hair off of them with his shirt. He took a seat behind Peko and began delicately trimming the uneven ends of hair, combing out the knots and tangles still leftover. Despite feeling slightly more confident around her, his hands still shook with nervousness, not wanting to ruin anything, especially not for her.

The slicing of the scissors were the only things the two of them heard for a little bit, not speaking but still sitting in a comfortable and sentimental silence. The intimacy of the moment was not lost on them, his hands shaky and her chest still heaving, trying to fill her lungs with air at a steady rate. He handled her hair gently, as though not to break her, until it was relatively even. It was now at nice length that reached just below her shoulders.

“Okay, it looks alright,” he said finally. She put her hands on the floor, ready to get up, until he grabbed her shoulder. “Wait,” he said suddenly. “Hm?” she questioned.

“Wait I—I wanna do this one thing for you.”

Peko froze. What did he—

Slowly, she felt his slightly trembling hands make a part down the middle.

She felt him section the left side of her hair into three parts, intertwining them in a pattern so familiar to her that it felt like a part of her own body.

She felt him section the right side of her hair into three parts, threading them into each other to form a three strand arrangement which felt so comforting that she almost felt like herself again.

(Whoever that was.)

“Alright it’s not great but it’ll do, I think,” he stated semi-proudly as he finished tying the right braid with the small hair tie he kept in his pocket. 

She’d never know that he’d been carrying them around should this certain occasion pop up.

Peko reached over her shoulder, tenderly touching the braid that now hung over it. A sense of relief swelled up inside her, one that she hadn’t felt in so long.

“Thank you,” she said softly, the affection not lost in her voice. “You did not have to do that.”

“But I still did. Cause I wanted to.”

Fuyuhiko now stood in front of her, offering him her hand.

She stared at it, hesitating.

‘ _I want you to get better for you._ ’

Carefully, she slid her hand into his and allowed him to hoist her up, her legs still weak from walking without assistance earlier.

“Let’s get you back into bed, hey?” He wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting her the way he wished he could have this entire time.

“What about the,” Peko gestured to the mess of hair that lay strewn about the linoleum. They looked almost beautiful in the fluorescent lights of the bathroom, knots and tangles forming silver rivers all across the floor.

Fuyuhiko laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up later, okay?” A look of worry flashed across Peko’s face. “I said, don’t worry about it okay? You have other things to do.” 

“So do you,” she argued. Fuyuhiko rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Peko, I said don’t worry about it, okay? Just let me handle it this time.” That last part was said with a softness that did not go unnoticed.

She nodded. “Okay,” she said hesitantly. 

Accepting help was still hard, but she was still willing to try.

“Alright let's get you back to bed,” he said, swinging open the bathroom door. Together, they made their way out the doorway, across the hall, and to Peko’s room. 

A thought suddenly occurred to her as they reached her door. “How did you know where to find me?”

He stopped. “I um...I always make sure that you’re...sleeping. At night. And you weren’t there so...I went looking.”

Peko’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why, wha—”

He snorted. “Shut up, I’m just looking out for you,” he mumbled under his breath. “Besides, I think it’s kind of warranted after what happened tonight.” He hoped she didn’t notice how pink his face had gotten in the darkness of the hallway.

Trying to ignore the light burning in his face, Fuyuhiko opened the door softly, as to not make a sound, and gently helped Peko make her way to the bed. She fell back onto the mattress into a sitting position, her legs swinging off of the bed, braids swinging on impact. 

“Okay,” he said. “You gonna be okay?”

That question again. She never knew how to answer. She still didn’t. Peko stared at the ground, expression unreadable.

‘ _You’re so pathetic_ ,’ the voice that didn’t belong to her rang out again, laughing in her ear. 

‘ _I want you to get better for you._ ’ The words still lingered in her mind,

Peko still didn’t know what “better for herself” meant, but she knew that she wanted to get to it. Tears threatened to burn at the back of her eyes again as she thought of the pain of hundreds of swords stabbing into her body again. Feelings of shame crept into her once more, wrapping its tendrils around her heart.

She remembered his face was warm. So, so warm. So warm that she felt real in that moment that she touched him, feeling the warmth that made him human.

“Do you want me to go?”

She said nothing.

His heart felt tight, but he understood.

“Okay, I’m gonna g—”

“Wait,” she whispered, barely audible, so quiet he had to strain to hear it.

He stopped in his tracks, his hand still hovering above the doorknob.

“Yeah?” he breathed softly, not wanting to shatter her next words.

She paused.

“Can you...stay,” she whispered even softer, her words nearly getting lost with the rustling of the palm trees.

“Please…”

Fuyuhiko blinked back his surprise, frozen to the spot. “Uh, yeah. Of course,” he finally got out, turning around to grab the chair that he usually sat in.

He felt a cold hand grab his.

Slowly, he turned around to meet her gaze, afraid of what he might see. He thought he might see desperation, or sadness, or even anger. As he met her eyes, he saw something nearly unknown to him.

Peko looked tired.

So, so tired.

_Oh_.

“I, um,” Fuyuhiko was at a loss for words. He had seen her look angry, upset, even scared during her last moments “alive,” but tiredness was never something he’d seen in her ruby red eyes before. It was new for him, but it was new for her too. Peko was not entirely sure how to convey her emotions or what she was battling internally, but she knew that it hurt, and even more, she knew that she was tired. She was tired of fighting it, tired of hurting, tired of not knowing what was going on inside of her. All she knew right now was that she wanted to feel real again.

He made his way next to her, her hand still holding his. ‘ _God, she's so cold,_ ’ he thought to himself as he threw back the covers. Giving him one last indiscernible look, she wordlessly climbed into the bed, braids still intact.

Fuyuhiko stared at her, her eyes now closed. She looked so peaceful now, but he now knew that when she fell asleep she’d be tortured with the feeling of pain in her back, in her chest, in every part of her body. His heart ached for her, and despite the slight awkwardness he was feeling right now, he knew that at least for tonight, he wanted to be the one to keep her safe.

He lay down next to her and threw the blankets over the both of them. "I'm gonna—" He paused. "Tell me if this is okay, okay?" He slowly wrapped his arms around Peko’s body, hugging her close, desperate to ward the nightmares and phantom pains away. He felt her exhale a small sigh of relief, clear that she was content with this, her body almost dissolving into him. Her hair was in his face, still in their braids, but he didn’t mind. As long as she felt safe.

“Are you okay?”

His words were slightly muffled against her hair, but they were not lost to her.

A moment of silence filled the space between them.

‘ _I want you to get better for you.'_

“I think...that right now, I am.”

And for once, that was the truth.

“Okay...good,” he mumbled into her hair, slowly drifting off to sleep with her still locked in his arms. “Because I really want you to be okay, okay?”

Peko stared into the darkness for a long time. “What if I don’t know what that means?”

Fuyuhiko was silent for a moment, pondering the question. “Then we’ll figure it out with time, okay?”

Without even realizing it, she felt her body release all the tension she’d been holding in for so long. Her shoulders relaxed, her chest felt less tight, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe again.

“Okay. I believe you.”

And she did.

Peko melted into his embrace, suddenly unafraid of the dreams of swords and death that often haunted her sleep, somehow knowing that they wouldn’t be present tonight.

She still didn’t know what “better” meant for her. Maybe she still wouldn’t know for a long, long time. But she knew that she had time. And she knew that she had him to help her along the way.

Somewhere in her heart, beyond the voice that did not belong to her, beyond the years of suffering and suppression, Peko felt herself grow warm.

' _This is real.'_

_'I am real.’_

  
  
  
  
Somewhere in the distance, a fire glows.  
  
  



End file.
